


Puppy Love

by OracleObscured



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, One Shot, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleObscured/pseuds/OracleObscured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naked Sirius and a lesson Hermione will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> This story is slightly AU in that Sirius is still alive in their sixth year. Hermione is 17. If that bothers you, don't read.

6th Year—Summer

Hermione stood stone still at the top of the attic stairs. She’d come to tell Sirius dinner was ready. Shepard’s pie. Too bad she was too tongue-tied to talk. Who could think about things like menus and words when faced with a naked Sirius Black?

It was as homey as a prison cell up there, the bald mattress plopped on the bare floor like an afterthought. The scene might have been depressing if not for all that skin. Instead of looking vulnerable and sad, he had sprawled on his stomach like a lazy lad of leisure. Although twisted toward her, he had his leg bent so she was just missing the full Monty. Tattoos blotted out his torso and arms, turning him into a human picture book. And did she ever like to read. Hermione tilted her head to one side as if a change in angle would reveal more of the story.

The attic was stuffy and hot, so it was no wonder he’d decided to sleep starkers. Sweat had already begun trickling down her back, and she’d only been standing there a few minutes. The little window was open to let in a breeze, but that was akin to putting a pinprick in an oven door to let out the heat. Was he as sweaty as she was? Was that why he’d opted for such a bollock-breathing position? The concept of sweaty balls had seemed so disgusting up until that very moment; now she was reconsidering. He wasn’t sweating, he was glistening, sparkling like diamond dust. She longed to run her hands over the haggard planes of his body. He liked to be petted as Padfoot. Would he enjoy it as much as a man?

Buckbeak dozed in the corner, his feathery, grey back curled toward Hermione. She was glad the hippogriff remained asleep; he might have alerted Sirius to her presence, and then she’d have to stop peeking.

Sirius whimpered in his sleep and twitched like a dog having a bad dream. Hermione ducked below the crest of the stairs and held her breath, hoping he wouldn't wake. When she didn’t hear any further movement, she raised her head and checked to see what was happening. He’d rolled to his other side, giving her an outstanding view of his bum.

Despite his still-too-thin physique, his arse had enough meat on it to make her mouth water. She wanted to turn him into a chew toy. Guilt told her to look away, but curiosity kept her eyes on the prize. She’d never seen a real live naked man before. There was too much she didn’t know to just abandon a learning opportunity of this magnitude. Who knew when Ron was going to get the courage to admit his feelings; at the rate they were going, it would be years before she saw anything of this nature from him.

Despite all her silent pleading for Sirius to turn over, naked arse and concealing shadow were all she was afforded. And maybe she’d been pervy enough for one day. Tiptoeing down to the foot of the stairs, she swallowed and took a deep breath. “Sirius?”

There was a muffled sound of movement from above and then a sleep-crusted voice grunted back, “Hermione?”

“Dinner’s ready if you want some.”

“Okay. Thanks, Hermione. I’ll be there soon.”

That was the start of the staring contest. For the rest of the summer, whenever they happened to be in the same room, Hermione eyed his crotch like a detective searching for clues. At mealtimes she volunteered to fetch him, and she prayed each time to catch him in the buff again.

Her luck must have run out. The only balls on display were Padfoot’s dog balls.

And that didn’t do anything for her at all.

  
Winter—

Hermione spent Christmas with her parents, but on Boxing Day she returned to Grimmauld Place to be with her friends. Sirius was in an odd mood: jovial one hour and morose the next. He seemed to be steeling himself for their departure and his inevitable loneliness.

Hermione couldn’t help resuming her spying endeavors. Peek and go seek.

When Sirius was in a playful mood, he turned himself into Padfoot and romped about the house with Harry and Ron. She liked seeing them all having some fun, but there was no sexy skin to perv over when he was man’s best friend. He certainly wasn’t woman’s best friend like that. He couldn’t throw her a bone while running about on four legs. And she couldn’t stop worrying about how crotch-level his nose was.

On the third day in, she got a lucky break. Harry and Ron were busy playing chess (and Ginny was busy watching Harry), so she was free to move about unobserved. Hermione casually mentioned she was going to the library to find a book.

But she went in the opposite direction.

The attic stairs didn’t creak if she stayed on the sides. Avoiding each step’s groaning center, she crept to the top floor. Sirius hadn’t come down to breakfast, and he was still up there. Asleep. Wearing only his pajama bottoms.

Hard as a rock.

Her eyes locked on the jabbing pole straining to break free from the confines of his blue-striped bottoms. Merlin, he could hide a whole three-ring circus under there. The urge to laugh was silenced only by the urge to see him without the pajamas. She stayed there as long as she could, imagining what it would be like to go camping under that pup tent.

Hermione spent a long time in the bath that night—until the fingers of her right hand had gone pruney. And when she finally went to bed, she slept like the dead.

The next day when Mrs. Weasley announced that lunch was ready, Hermione jumped out of her seat and headed for the stairs. “I’ll find everyone.” She was hoping for a second showing at Big Top Black: The greatest show on earth.

Tiptoeing to the top of the attic stairs, she almost jumped out of her skin when she found Sirius perched atop the squat dresser that sat beneath the small round window. He was completely dressed and staring directly at her as if he’d been waiting for her arrival.

"Lunch is ready," she told him, trying not to sound and look completely guilty.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said with a crooked smirk. "I can't help but notice that you've been the one to call me down most days."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I also can't help noticing that you've been staring at me quite a bit."

"I'm sorry," she said automatically. Staring was rude. With a blush, she turned to go. "I'll stop."

“Hermione.”

When she met his eye, he looked even more amused.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you. I don't mind a bit of staring. I'm quite flattered actually. No one's looked at me like that in a long time. It makes me feel almost human again."

She didn't know how to respond. “Oh, um… You're welcome?"

Sirius gave her a lopsided grin. "I know you're curious, but I can't have underage girls spying on me in my bedroom."

Her eyes went wide. _Oh God, he knows._

"Don't look so terrified. I'm not upset," he laughed. "And if you were a year or two older, I'd show you something to remember, but…"

"I'm of age,” she said, just to correct him.

"What?"

"I turned seventeen in September."

“You're a year older than Harry?"

“Almost.”

"Well…that's new information,” he said, looking thoughtful.

"I'm really sorry about the spying, Sirius. I'll leave you alone.” She started back down the stairs.

"Hermione," he called out.

She turned and looked up at him. He was leaning over the top of the banister.

“One fifteen.”

She checked her watch. It read 12:45. "Huh?"

“A.M.,” he clarified. "I'll wait for you."

He smiled and disappeared from the top of the stairs. Hermione blinked. _Wait for me to what?_

  
1:06 A.M.—

Hermione stood at the base of the stairs, debating whether she should go up or not. She had no idea what Sirius had in mind. Her thoughts were jumbled up in her head like pick-up sticks. She couldn’t examine one without jostling another. And another. Each more lascivious than the last. The house was so quiet she could practically hear the arousal thumping through her sex.

_Sirius is a grown wizard, Hermione. This might be more than you bargained for._

_Yes, but I don’t think he’d do anything scary._

_What if this is my only chance to see this? Who knows when Ron will come to his senses. If he’s going to snog Lavender right in my face, I’m going to get an eyeful of Sirius._

As soon as she set one foot on the stair, Hermione felt as if she’d crossed some invisible barrier. She’d made up her mind, and she wasn’t going back. If Sirius was willing to show her something, she wanted to see it.

Popping her head over the horizon of the attic floor, she immediately scanned the room for possible nakedness. He was standing by a cobwebbed dresser in one corner, pulling off his shirt. She froze. His muscles were like rope under his skin, writhing serpents of strength flexing for freedom. What would it feel like to run her fingers over that shadowed maze of muscle? His hands slid to his fly, and her heart started to thump like a bass drum. There was a lump in her throat. It was stuck there, impossible to swallow with no spit to wet the way.

He must have heard her raspy breathing or sensed her appreciative gaze, because his head whipped around, and he squinted into the shadows where she hid.

“Don’t stand on the stairs,” he murmured. “Someone will see you.”

Hermione ascended the remaining stairs in a daze. _Is this really happening?_ She felt as if she were watching herself in a play. The attic seemed like a different world, a Narnia of naughtiness. She didn’t know what would be around the next corner. His belt was hanging open, a portent of things to come. The lowering of a single zipper would reveal all of life's mysteries.

And she was ready for some answers.

Taking her hand, he pulled her over to a dusty cane chair and nodded at her to sit. Sitting sounded safer. Her knees couldn’t be trusted.

"Do you just want to watch?" It looked as though he was trying not to laugh.

Hermione nodded, mute with anticipation.

“I haven’t done this in front of anybody in a while…not including Beaky,” he said, glancing at the sleeping hippogriff. “But he doesn’t count. I don’t think he gets off on it.”

Hermione didn’t respond. She was too busy staring at the bulge in his trousers.

“Hermione, have you ever been with a bloke?”

She shook her head no.

“Have you kissed one?”

She nodded.  
  
He crouched down to her level. “Ever touched one?”

“Not below the waist,” she whispered.

“So you just want to see?”  
  
More nodding.

“Okay. Stop looking so scared.” He smiled. “You’re going to give me a complex.”

He stood and gave her a cheeky smirk as he slid his hand over his zip. She didn’t know if his slow rubbing was for her benefit or his own. There was so much pressure behind that placket. It seemed his dick was as eager to be seen as she was to see it. She didn’t know if he was turned on by her presence or if he did this sort of thing on a regular basis. For her own future masturbatory purposes she decided on “regular basis” and “uncontrollable lust for her.”

Hermione eyed the growing lump in his trousers. How could a bulge be so inviting? She wanted to press her palm to its struggling intensity and feel the heat singe her hand. Maybe that would help thaw out her fingers, which had gone numb with nervousness.

He caught the lip of the zip and, slow as molasses, drew it down, exposing his white boxers. She could hear every metal tooth unlocking and zinging free. His fly parted, and she inhaled sharply as the stiff outline of his erection jumped toward her like a 3-D thriller. It was a ghost cock rising from beneath the thin white material, haunting her imagination. His hand stroked over that last layer, adjusting himself and defining the contours of his sex with his grip.

The urge to blink was forgotten when he hooked his thumbs in the gathered waistband and started to drag his shorts down with his trousers. His hard-on bounded out, thick and heavy. Hermione had only ever seen paintings and pictures in books, and reality was far more whimsical than she’d ever imagined. It was also intimidating. Thinking about where that thing could go made her question nature’s sanity.

He stepped out of his clothes, and she found herself staring head-on at a totally buck naked Sirius Black. His balls were adorably furry, and she had the sudden urge to pet them. There was a brief comparison in her head to Christmas decorations, but she wasn’t sure if that was inspired by the time of year or just word association. They looked soft and warm, and she liked the contrast of vulnerability in comparison with the the rigid power of his cock. He began to stroke his length, and she watched the slow slide of his hand like a student watching a master sculptor polish marble.

Although she was entranced by his sex, she realized that boys looked slightly ridiculous when completely naked—exciting but also a little humorous. Despite the hilarity of her discovery, she wanted to know what it felt like. All that stiff flesh. Its very shape begged for her hand. The instinct to grab it and hold on was impossible to ignore. It was like holding out a beater’s bat to someone and then expecting them not to wrap their fingers around it.

His stroking inspired it to new dimensions. How could it get any bigger? Or harder. Merlin’s beard. This was like a nightmare and a dream all rolled into one. It was scary. But fascinating. Kind of like the first time she met Buckbeak. When he let go, his dick bounced so hard she could hear cartoon springs spranging in her head. _Boi-oi-oi-oi-ng_. Definitely ridiculous. Although, she did like the way it defied gravity.

“At least you’re smiling now,” he teased.

Hermione blushed and turned away.

“It’s all right, I know that look. You’ll change your mind one day when some wizard shags the blue blazes out of you.”

Hermione didn’t see that happening any time soon.

“Do you want to touch?”

She bit her lip, smiling, then nodded.

“Do you want to do it here, or do you want me to lie down?”

She peered around him, looking at the mattress on the floor. “Um...you can lie down.”

“Good, I’m getting cold.” He went to the mattress and rolled across onto his back. When he saw her still in the chair, he grinned. “I don’t think you’ll be able to reach from there.”

Hermione crept over and sat down on one corner.

He crooked his finger at her. “A _little_ closer.”

Scooting toward him, she sat cross-legged at his hip.

“All right,” he nodded, patting her knee reassuringly, “whenever you’re ready.”

“What should I do?”

Sirius put his hands behind his head. “Whatever you fancy. I don’t mind.”

“Anywhere?”

He grinned broadly. “I’m game.”

In her flannel pajamas, sitting on his flannel sheets and fleece blanket, she was pretty warm; but her nipples had been left out of the loop. They stood out as if she were in a meat locker. It made her feel insanely naked under the loose top. Who knew panic could be such a turn-on? Before she could lose her nerve, Hermione reached out and made contact—staying north.

His chest was warm. She traced the tattoo in the center, drawing its contours with her fingertips. Following it down to his waist, she ran her hand over the trail of hair around his belly button. She liked that bit. It was cute, like puppy belly. She’d never tell him that though. Men didn’t seem to take “cute” as a compliment.

That line trailed down to his thick pubic hair like a road map. Except his hard-on was blocking the street. With one tentative finger, she touched the underside. It leapt up and danced for her, which reminded her of the way his tail wagged when he was Padfoot. Except this was far less innocent.

Following the thick ridge that divided the underside, she found herself wandering in the borderlands of his bollocks The hair there was coarser. Smoothing her hand over his fur, she felt the loose sac beneath. It was cooler to the touch than his shaft. Very soft. She wanted to test his balls, see what they felt like; but she didn’t want to hurt him.

“What?” he asked when she hesitated. “Are you scared or disgusted?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I’ve seen too many Quidditch accidents to believe that. Guys get hurt pretty easily.”

Sirius smiled. “It’s a sensitive area. Just be gentle with the family jewels.”

Hermione cupped one side and looked at his face to make sure he was okay.

Sirius nodded, “That’s fine. You can move them around. I’ll tell you if you get too rough.”

She got a bit braver and, with the curiosity of a scientist examining a new specimen, tested one dense testicle, manipulating it with the tips of her fingers. It reminded her of a small hard-boiled egg. They moved pretty easily, and she rolled them around, lifting his scrotum to see underneath. It looked as if a mad seamstress had sewn his sac back together. She traced the patch job with one finger, and the seam gathered tighter as his balls drew closer to his body. He must have enjoyed that, because his sigh morphed into a soft grunt.

Giving his balls one last pet, she went back to the main-attraction. His dick strained toward her hand. Her instincts proved too powerful, and she wrapped her fingers around his shaft with a smile of success.

He hissed.

“Too tight?” she asked, loosening her grip.

Sirius shook his head. “Too good.”

Hermione squeezed again. He sighed as if she’d set him free. Copying his earlier technique, she moved her clenched fist along his length like fireman sliding down a pole. His skin was hot in her hand, as if his shaft had a molten core. He started breathing deeper as she shifted his foreskin up and down.

His glans appeared and disappeared as she slowly pumped. A tiny wet glint glistening at the tip of his brick red head. She understood the concept of pre-cum; she’d just never really thought about it much before. It seemed to be the “coming attraction” of bodily fluids.

Sirius’s hand wrapped around hers, guiding her strokes. Hermione studied his face to gauge how she was doing. He seemed less amused now and more intense.

“Are you going to… you know?” she stammered.

The amusement returned. “I know what?”

Hermione blushed and squeezed his cock. “This… are you close?”

He winced. “Well, I am now.”

He locked his knob in death grip. She watched with bated breath as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

The tension gradually drained from his body, and he relaxed and let go. “Okay. Keep it loose or I’m going to lose it.”

Hermione didn't know she was so talented. “Isn’t that the point?”

Sirius smiled. “Eventually. Getting there’s the fun part.”

“Oh. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Show me how you do it.”

Grinning, he gipped his shaft and started to slowly stroke. “May I ask you a personal question, Hermione?”

She studied the way his hand moved as she nodded absently at his question. “Sure.”

“How far have you gone with Ron?”

“Nowhere.”

“You haven’t kissed him?”

“Just on the cheek.”

“Is that the most you’ve done with anyone?”

“No. Viktor snogged me after the Yule Ball.”

“Did you like it?”

She shrugged. “It was nice. Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to reciprocate. But I don’t want to scare you off if all you’ve done is kiss.”

“Reciprocate how exactly?”

Sirius let go of his cock to take a breather, visiting with his balls in the intermission. “There are all kinds of ways I can get you off. We’ll only do what you’re comfortable with.”

She swallowed hard. “Just touching?”

“If that’s what you’d prefer. I wouldn't mind kissing you if you’re up for it.”

Hermione blinked. Kiss Sirius Black. That did not sound bad at all. And he wanted to get her off too. She’d only ever come by her own hand. It would be nice to delegate some of the workload and see how another touch compared to her own. “Will you keep it secret?”

Sirius laughed. “It’ll stay between us. I don’t think anyone would forgive me for this.”

“I’ve never been naked with anyone before,” she admitted.

“You don’t have to take off anything. I can work under your clothes, or I can stay on top of them if that makes you feel better. Don’t get me wrong though, I would love to see you naked.”

Hermione blushed.

“Don’t look so surprised. You’re bloody beautiful, Hermione.”

She thought she was rather average. “I’m not.” _I’m not even the prettiest one in this room._

“Yes, you bloody well are. I don’t ever want to hear you talking like that again. Lie down,” he said, turning on his side and patting the bed. “I want to look you.”

“You’re looking at me now.”

“I mean close up.”

Her face went scarlet, but she ignored her nerves and lay down. Being face to face with Sirius was almost overwhelming.

His fingers stroked her cheek, and she swallowed hard.

“Mmm. You’re even better head-on.”

Smiling at him, she took a shaky deep breath. “You too.”

That got a snuffling snort from him. “Have you decided on that kiss yet?”

Hermione nodded. “I want it.”

Sirius grinned and slowly closed in on her. Hermione shut her eyes and felt this nose brush hers. He cupped her face, and then his lips were on hers. Her breathing stopped. It was so bloody slow and sweet.

She had no idea what it was she’d done with Viktor, but compared with this, that had been amateur hour. His mouth opened, and she gasped when his tongue tapped her lips. He didn’t invade her mouth, he charmed his way in. And once he was in, he made himself at home.

The tip of his tongue tickled across the roof of her mouth, and she breathed a sigh of excitement against his lips. Sirius must have been spurred on by it, because he rolled her onto her back and slid his body along her side. She felt the hard jut of his dick on her hip and couldn’t resist reaching down to give it a squeeze.

Sirius growled into her mouth and moved her hand to his hip. “Not yet.”

Hermione didn’t know what he was waiting for. “I thought about it; you can take off my clothes if you want.” She’d made her decision.

Sirius pulled back further and studied her face. “Are you sure?”

If he could kiss her like that, she wanted to find out what else he could do. “Completely sure.”

He dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned quietly. “I’m so fucking lonely here,” he whispered.

Hermione felt her chest tighten with sympathy. She was lonely too, but it must be so much worse for him being trapped all by himself. Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered back, “You won't be tonight.”

He kissed her neck. “Are you _sure_ you’re ready?”

She nodded.

His fingers drew a line from the top of her buttons to the bottom. He began to undo them one at a time, and her stomach trembled as each button fell free. Someone else was about to see her topless . She didn’t know what to expect. Would he be disappointed with what she had to offer? She was no bombshell. His eyes drifted from her face to the thin strip of skin appearing between her parted pajamas. As the last button pulled free, he slid his hand up her stomach, brushing just under the edge of her top.

When she showed no signs of fear, he smiled and drew the halves apart, baring her chest. Hermione’s nipples tightened under his gaze, growing to two sharp points atop her breasts. He grunted out a soft sigh of appreciation, his eyes glued to each beacon.

He seemed hypnotized. His face approached one peak, but then he stopped and looked up at her. “Do you mind?”

She could barely speak. "It’s all right.”

Sirius dropped his lips to the top of one breast, groaning as he kissed the soft flesh. “So warm,” he muttered as he worked his way to the center.

The velvet heat of his mouth closed around her knotted nipple, and Hermione whimpered at the sensation. The wet slide of his tongue was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

He kept switching between the two, as if he couldn’t decide which one he preferred. When he started sucking and pinching, her moaning became desperate. Hermione threaded her fingers into his hair, and he breathed a happy snuffled huff over her skin. She wondered if his leg would twitch if she scratched behind his ear.

His leg didn’t twitch, but he did pause and look up at her with a smirk. “That only works when I’ve got four legs.”

Hermione blushed, embarrassed at being so transparent.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he laughed, sliding one hand down to the drawstring at her waist. “Are you ready for me to take these off?”

She nodded wholeheartedly, excited to see what he’d do next.

Sliding down her body, he pulled her pajamas over her hips; and she lifted to assist. Sirius set her pajamas aside and hovered over her mound. When he slipped his tongue into her belly button, Hermione bucked against him. _Sweet Circe! Do it again!_ He kissed his way down her lower abdomen, teasing right up to the edge of her knicker elastic. They were just simple cotton bikinis, and she wished she’d thought to wear something sexier than red and white stripes.

“You look like a candy cane,” he muttered, kissing the soft inner flesh of her thighs. “But you smell so much better.”

Hermione blushed. She didn’t give a whole lot of thought to what pussy smelled like. The soap she used was citrus scented. Would she taste like orange juice?

He placed a single kiss to her gusset, almost directly over her clit. Hermione didn’t know it was possible to feel her own lubrication literally overflow. She wanted to reach into her panties and check the saturation for herself.

Sirius looked up at her, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You still sure about this?”

“Yes, Sirius, I’m sure.”

His smirk pulled to a grin as he reverently removed her remaining layer. Tossing her knickers aside, he stared at her pussy as if he’d been petrified. Totally still. Spellbound. He shook himself back to life like a wet dog then sank down to her mound. Bowing his head, he touched his nose to the top of her slit and inhaled deeply. Hermione’s face went so red she felt feverish.

“Sweet Merlin,” Sirius groaned. “It’s been too long. I forgot what pussy smelled like.”

Resting his cheek on her furry mound, he sighed happily. “Fifteen fucking years. This is one hell of a nice welcome back. You smell like heaven, Hermione. From now on, Christmas will make me think of nothing but pussy and candy cane knickers.”

She smiled at the ceiling. It was nice to be wanted.

“I will never forget this, love. And you won’t either. I’m going to make you cream all over my face until you beg me for mercy.”

With two fingers he spread her lips and grinned at the glittering shine. “Oh fuck me,” he muttered. “Look at that pretty pink pussy.”

Sirius ran one finger from her clit to her entrance and tickled her opening. He grunted in delight as her hips danced in his face. “You haven’t seen anything yet, love.”

He got comfortable between her legs and slowly circled her clit with one fingertip. Hermione’s nails sank into the edge of the mattress. He was insanely gentle. It was so different from how she usually touched herself. She was just as efficient when it came to masturbation as she was with everything else. It was always about getting to orgasm as quickly as possible. But Sirius was barely touching her. It was more like a suggestion than a stroke.

He held down her bucking hips with his left arm. “Patience. Let it build.”

“Build?” she asked in a confused whisper.

He looked up from her pussy. “How do you usually do this?”

“In the shower.”

Smiling, he nodded. “Have you ever gotten yourself really close and then stopped and started again?”

Hermione shook her head no.

“It called delayed gratification, and it can make for some seriously intense orgasms. So do you usually just do it hard and fast?”

Nodding, she started to wonder if she’d been going about things all wrong. What he was doing felt amazing—maddening, but amazing.

“Well then, you’re in for one hell of a ride tonight. Can you come more than once?”

She nodded again. Usually there wasn’t time, but sometimes she did it over and over until her clit got sore. The tub in the Prefect’s bath was particularly good for that. There was a jet on one wall that never got tired of getting her off.

“All you have to do is relax.”

That was easier said than done.

“The more relaxed you are, the better you’ll feel. Don’t try to force it, okay?”

“Okay. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you need to…you know?”

Sirius snickered. “I’ll come later. Delayed gratification, remember?”

“If that’s what you want.” She shrugged, not sure if it was worth the wait.

“No, _this_ is what I want.” He dove into her slit, and Hermione almost screamed when his tongue lapped her slick nub.

She clamped her hand over her mouth to suffocate her shout. Sirius groaned into her sex as if he were starving and her pussy was a plate of bacon. Her clit buzzed with the residual vibrations as he buried his nose in her crotch like a badly behaved dog. Hermione would have laughed at the comparison if she had been capable of any sound other than guttural moaning, but her brain was being licked out through her pussy, and the only thought currently occupying her mind was "don’t stop."

The musky sweet scent of her arousal started to fill the attic. She wondered how he could breathe with his nose mashed into her clit like that.

Sirius pulled away and grinned up at her. “You taste so good.”

A wail of frustration echoed against her palm as her climbing climax stumbled back to the bottom of the hill. She reached down with both hands and sank her fingers into his hair. “Please, Sirius.”

He smiled. “Good things come to those who wait.”

He went back to his licking, cleaning her clit with a tongue dexterity that could have only come from years of canine experience. She spread her legs wider and begged him to devour her. Instead of lapping her faster, he suckled her clit like an aristocrat sucking an oyster from its shell. Her hips lifted off the mattress in an attempt to force-feed him.

Just as she started to climb the last slope to orgasm, he pulled away, panting happily up at her as if waiting for a treat. Hermione wanted to give him a smack on the nose.

He must have sensed her desperate fury, because he snickered softly and kissed her clit. “Just a couple more times.”

Hermione growled. His lips returned to her slit, and she shouted into her palm as his nose nuzzled her nub. His tongue tickled her entrance, prodding her hips to buck up into his face.

“Please, Sirius,” she whispered.

One of his fingers sank inside her dripping channel, teaming up with the tongue on her clit like Allied forces ready to drop the bomb. Her pussy welcomed the invasion, sloshing out a plea for additional troops. A stuttered whimper skipped past her lips as the intensity built. "Sir-i-us."

"Shh," he murmured. "You're going to wake Beaky."

"I don't care," she groaned.

Sirius snickered into her snatch. "Are you getting closer?"

"Yes. Stop teasing."

His finger pumped faster.

"Yes," she breathed. "Right there."

He sighed in delight. “Bloody hell, I forgot what pussy sounded like too. Listen to that. You are so close."

"No kidding," she intoned. "Please. I can't take any more!"

"Shhh," he chuckled. "Someone's going to hear you."

Her body jolted. Her stomach tightened to stone. She was right on the edge.

"How brave are you feeling?" Sirius asked, slowing his hand so the edge slipped from her grasp yet again.

"I don't know," she whimpered.

"I think I need to come up there and keep you quiet."

"What?"

He pulled his finger free and sucked it clean. "Wanna try something fun?"

"Will you let me finish?"

Sirius laughed and crawled up her body. "Yes. Are you ready?"

Hermione's eyes widened as he hovered over her, his erection heavy against her clit. "What are you going to do?"

His hips flexed, driving the back of his length along her slit. Hard heat skimmed over her clit, and she gasped at the feel of it.

"Did you like that?"

Hermione nodded, unable to put into words just how much.

His hips rested against her, nestling his sex between her lips. She was so wet he glided over her like butter on a hot roll.

"You feel bloody amazing," he growled.

Hermione was lost, out of her mind with desperation. She'd never thought of Sirius as a disciplined man, but she had new respect for his restraint. How he withstood his own need for so long was mystifying.

“That's it. Move your hips," Sirius whispered.

She realized she was writhing beneath him, bucking as if riding his cock. Shocked by her own wanton thrusting, Hermione stared at his crooked grin, wondering if he was laughing at her.

"Are you close again?”

She nodded.

He brushed his nose over hers and kissed a warm trail to her ear. His whisper made her shiver.

"Come for me, love. I don't know how much longer I can last."

His mouth touched her neck, and she moaned as he nipped her throat. Her eyes fluttered back into her head, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding on for dear life.

For a breathless minute, she teetered right on the edge. Then the pleasure broke through, and her pussy throbbed in relief. Hermione cried out at the intensity of it, the relief exquisite.

She must have been moaning louder than she thought, because his hand closed gently over her mouth to muffle her praise.

“Shhh. That’s it," he whispered. "You are so fucking beautiful."

Hermione felt the liquid warmth of his semen on her belly. He grunted and growled in her hair; his soft whimpering whines made her ear itch.

She held onto him as he shuddered against her, stroking his hair until he'd calmed down.

“Is your curiosity sated?" he mumbled, half out of breath.

She could hear his grin. "That was bloody amazing, but..."

Sirius lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "But what?"

"I wanted to watch you."

"Watch me come?"

"Mm-hmm."

He kissed her forehead, smiling softly. "You'll have to give me a little bit, but I think we can find something to do in the meantime."

"Will you tell me what you like?"

"That's generally how sexual situations work."

"No, I mean beyond the touching. Will you tell me how to lick you the way you licked me?"

He blinked a couple times, face blank, then his mouth pulled into a lopsided smile. “I think I’m about to have the quickest recovery time in history.”

 

Dawn—  
  
When the sun rose, Hermione sneaked back to her room. Her candy-striped knickers had been left by his pillow so he wouldn't forget her. Tired and happy, she sank into bed for a couple hours sleep before the day started again. It would soon be a new year, but she already felt like a new woman—a wet woman, who'd collected a treasure trove of information. For instance, waiting for her orgasm to hit was far more pleasurable than forcing it out...and semen was an acquired taste.  
  
She smiled. Maybe he'd be up for one more go before she had to return to school.  
  
Bouncing boners sounded like a fun way to ring in the new year.


End file.
